The Embassy to Achilles.



      Thus did the Trojans watch. But Panic, comrade of blood-stained

      Rout, had taken fast hold of the Achaeans, and their princes were

      all of them in despair. As when the two winds that blow from

      Thrace—the north and the northwest—spring up of a sudden and

      rouse the fury of the main—in a moment the dark waves uprear

      their heads and scatter their sea-wrack in all directions—even

      thus troubled were the hearts of the Achaeans.



      The son of Atreus in dismay bade the heralds call the people to a

      council man by man, but not to cry the matter aloud; he made

      haste also himself to call them, and they sat sorry at heart in

      their assembly. Agamemnon shed tears as it were a running stream

      or cataract on the side of some sheer cliff; and thus, with many

      a heavy sigh he spoke to the Achaeans. “My friends,” said he,

      “princes and councillors of the Argives, the hand of heaven has

      been laid heavily upon me. Cruel Jove gave me his solemn promise

      that I should sack the city of Troy before returning, but he has

      played me false, and is now bidding me go ingloriously back to

      Argos with the loss of much people. Such is the will of Jove, who

      has laid many a proud city in the dust as he will yet lay others,

      for his power is above all. Now, therefore, let us all do as I

      say and sail back to our own country, for we shall not take

      Troy.”



      Thus he spoke, and the sons of the Achaeans for a long while sat

      sorrowful there, but they all held their peace, till at last

      Diomed of the loud battle-cry made answer saying, “Son of Atreus,

      I will chide your folly, as is my right in council. Be not then

      aggrieved that I should do so. In the first place you attacked me

      before all the Danaans and said that I was a coward and no

      soldier. The Argives young and old know that you did so. But the

      son of scheming Saturn endowed you by halves only. He gave you

      honour as the chief ruler over us, but valour, which is the

      highest both right and might he did not give you. Sir, think you

      that the sons of the Achaeans are indeed as unwarlike and

      cowardly as you say they are? If your own mind is set upon going

      home—go—the way is open to you; the many ships that followed you

      from Mycene stand ranged upon the sea-shore; but the rest of us

      stay here till we have sacked Troy. Nay though these too should

      turn homeward with their ships, Sthenelus and myself will still

      fight on till we reach the goal of Ilius, for heaven was with us

      when we came.”



      The sons of the Achaeans shouted applause at the words of Diomed,

      and presently Nestor rose to speak. “Son of Tydeus,” said he, “in

      war your prowess is beyond question, and in council you excel all

      who are of your own years; no one of the Achaeans can make light

      of what you say nor gainsay it, but you have not yet come to the

      end of the whole matter. You are still young—you might be the

      youngest of my own children—still you have spoken wisely and have

      counselled the chief of the Achaeans not without discretion;

      nevertheless I am older than you and I will tell you everything;

      therefore let no man, not even King Agamemnon, disregard my

      saying, for he that foments civil discord is a clanless,

      hearthless outlaw.



      “Now, however, let us obey the behests of night and get our

      suppers, but let the sentinels every man of them camp by the

      trench that is without the wall. I am giving these instructions

      to the young men; when they have been attended to, do you, son of

      Atreus, give your orders, for you are the most royal among us

      all. Prepare a feast for your councillors; it is right and

      reasonable that you should do so; there is abundance of wine in

      your tents, which the ships of the Achaeans bring from Thrace

      daily. You have everything at your disposal wherewith to

      entertain guests, and you have many subjects. When many are got

      together, you can be guided by him whose counsel is wisest—and

      sorely do we need shrewd and prudent counsel, for the foe has lit

      his watchfires hard by our ships. Who can be other than dismayed?

      This night will either be the ruin of our host, or save it.”



      Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. The

      sentinels went out in their armour under command of Nestor’s son

      Thrasymedes, a captain of the host, and of the bold warriors

      Ascalaphus and Ialmenus: there were also Meriones, Aphareus and

      Deipyrus, and the son of Creion, noble Lycomedes. There were

      seven captains of the sentinels, and with each there went a

      hundred youths armed with long spears: they took their places

      midway between the trench and the wall, and when they had done so

      they lit their fires and got every man his supper.



      The son of Atreus then bade many councillors of the Achaeans to

      his quarters and prepared a great feast in their honour. They

      laid their hands on the good things that were before them, and as

      soon as they had enough to eat and drink, old Nestor, whose

      counsel was ever truest, was the first to lay his mind before

      them. He, therefore, with all sincerity and goodwill addressed

      them thus.



      “With yourself, most noble son of Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon,

      will I both begin my speech and end it, for you are king over

      much people. Jove, moreover, has vouchsafed you to wield the

      sceptre and to uphold righteousness, that you may take thought

      for your people under you; therefore it behooves you above all

      others both to speak and to give ear, and to out the counsel of

      another who shall have been minded to speak wisely. All turns on

      you and on your commands, therefore I will say what I think will

      be best. No man will be of a truer mind than that which has been

      mine from the hour when you, sir, angered Achilles by taking the

      girl Briseis from his tent against my judgment. I urged you not

      to do so, but you yielded to your own pride, and dishonoured a

      hero whom heaven itself had honoured—for you still hold the prize

      that had been awarded to him. Now, however, let us think how we

      may appease him, both with presents and fair speeches that may

      conciliate him.”



      And King Agamemnon answered, “Sir, you have reproved my folly

      justly. I was wrong. I own it. One whom heaven befriends is in

      himself a host, and Jove has shown that he befriends this man by

      destroying much people of the Achaeans. I was blinded with

      passion and yielded to my worser mind; therefore I will make

      amends, and will give him great gifts by way of atonement. I will

      tell them in the presence of you all. I will give him seven

      tripods that have never yet been on the fire, and ten talents of

      gold. I will give him twenty iron cauldrons and twelve strong

      horses that have won races and carried off prizes. Rich, indeed,

      both in land and gold is he that has as many prizes as my horses

      have won me. I will give him seven excellent workwomen, Lesbians,

      whom I chose for myself when he took Lesbos—all of surpassing

      beauty. I will give him these, and with them her whom I erewhile

      took from him, the daughter of Briseus; and I swear a great oath

      that I never went up into her couch, nor have been with her after

      the manner of men and women.



      “All these things will I give him now, and if hereafter the gods

      vouchsafe me to sack the city of Priam, let him come when we

      Achaeans are dividing the spoil, and load his ship with gold and

      bronze to his liking; furthermore let him take twenty Trojan

      women, the loveliest after Helen herself. Then, when we reach

      Achaean Argos, wealthiest of all lands, he shall be my son-in-law

      and I will show him like honour with my own dear son Orestes, who

      is being nurtured in all abundance. I have three daughters,

      Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa, let him take the one of

      his choice, freely and without gifts of wooing, to the house of

      Peleus; I will add such dower to boot as no man ever yet gave his

      daughter, and will give him seven well-established cities,

      Cardamyle, Enope, and Hire, where there is grass; holy Pherae and

      the rich meadows of Anthea; Aepea also, and the vine-clad slopes

      of Pedasus, all near the sea, and on the borders of sandy Pylos.

      The men that dwell there are rich in cattle and sheep; they will

      honour him with gifts as though he were a god, and be obedient to

      his comfortable ordinances. All this will I do if he will now

      forgo his anger. Let him then yield; it is only Hades who is

      utterly ruthless and unyielding—and hence he is of all gods the

      one most hateful to mankind. Moreover I am older and more royal

      than himself. Therefore, let him now obey me.”



      Then Nestor answered, “Most noble son of Atreus, king of men,

      Agamemnon. The gifts you offer are no small ones, let us then

      send chosen messengers, who may go to the tent of Achilles son of

      Peleus without delay. Let those go whom I shall name. Let

      Phoenix, dear to Jove, lead the way; let Ajax and Ulysses follow,

      and let the heralds Odius and Eurybates go with them. Now bring

      water for our hands, and bid all keep silence while we pray to

      Jove the son of Saturn, if so be that he may have mercy upon us.”



      Thus did he speak, and his saying pleased them well. Men-servants

      poured water over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the

      mixing-bowls with wine and water, and handed it round after

      giving every man his drink-offering; then, when they had made

      their offerings, and had drunk each as much as he was minded, the

      envoys set out from the tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus; and

      Nestor, looking first to one and then to another, but most

      especially at Ulysses, was instant with them that they should

      prevail with the noble son of Peleus.



      They went their way by the shore of the sounding sea, and prayed

      earnestly to earth-encircling Neptune that the high spirit of the

      son of Aeacus might incline favourably towards them. When they

      reached the ships and tents of the Myrmidons, they found Achilles

      playing on a lyre, fair, of cunning workmanship, and its

      cross-bar was of silver. It was part of the spoils which he had

      taken when he sacked the city of Eetion, and he was now diverting

      himself with it and singing the feats of heroes. He was alone

      with Patroclus, who sat opposite to him and said nothing, waiting

      till he should cease singing. Ulysses and Ajax now came

      in—Ulysses leading the way—and stood before him. Achilles sprang

      from his seat with the lyre still in his hand, and Patroclus,

      when he saw the strangers, rose also. Achilles then greeted them

      saying, “All hail and welcome—you must come upon some great

      matter, you, who for all my anger are still dearest to me of the

      Achaeans.”



      With this he led them forward, and bade them sit on seats covered

      with purple rugs; then he said to Patroclus who was close by him,

      “Son of Menoetius, set a larger bowl upon the table, mix less

      water with the wine, and give every man his cup, for these are

      very dear friends, who are now under my roof.”



      Patroclus did as his comrade bade him; he set the chopping-block

      in front of the fire, and on it he laid the loin of a sheep, the

      loin also of a goat, and the chine of a fat hog. Automedon held

      the meat while Achilles chopped it; he then sliced the pieces and

      put them on spits while the son of Menoetius made the fire burn

      high. When the flame had died down, he spread the embers, laid

      the spits on top of them, lifting them up and setting them upon

      the spit-racks; and he sprinkled them with salt. When the meat

      was roasted, he set it on platters, and handed bread round the

      table in fair baskets, while Achilles dealt them their portions.

      Then Achilles took his seat facing Ulysses against the opposite

      wall, and bade his comrade Patroclus offer sacrifice to the gods;

      so he cast the offerings into the fire, and they laid their hands

      upon the good things that were before them. As soon as they had

      had enough to eat and drink, Ajax made a sign to Phoenix, and

      when he saw this, Ulysses filled his cup with wine and pledged

      Achilles.



      “Hail,” said he, “Achilles, we have had no scant of good cheer,

      neither in the tent of Agamemnon, nor yet here; there has been

      plenty to eat and drink, but our thought turns upon no such

      matter. Sir, we are in the face of great disaster, and without

      your help know not whether we shall save our fleet or lose it.

      The Trojans and their allies have camped hard by our ships and by

      the wall; they have lit watchfires throughout their host and deem

      that nothing can now prevent them from falling on our fleet.

      Jove, moreover, has sent his lightnings on their right; Hector,

      in all his glory, rages like a maniac; confident that Jove is

      with him he fears neither god nor man, but is gone raving mad,

      and prays for the approach of day. He vows that he will hew the

      high sterns of our ships in pieces, set fire to their hulls, and

      make havoc of the Achaeans while they are dazed and smothered in

      smoke; I much fear that heaven will make good his boasting, and

      it will prove our lot to perish at Troy far from our home in

      Argos. Up, then, and late though it be, save the sons of the

      Achaeans who faint before the fury of the Trojans. You will

      repent bitterly hereafter if you do not, for when the harm is

      done there will be no curing it; consider ere it be too late, and

      save the Danaans from destruction.



      “My good friend, when your father Peleus sent you from Phthia to

      Agamemnon, did he not charge you saying, ‘Son, Minerva and Juno

      will make you strong if they choose, but check your high temper,

      for the better part is in goodwill. Eschew vain quarrelling, and

      the Achaeans old and young will respect you more for doing so.’

      These were his words, but you have forgotten them. Even now,

      however, be appeased, and put away your anger from you. Agamemnon

      will make you great amends if you will forgive him; listen, and I

      will tell you what he has said in his tent that he will give you.

      He will give you seven tripods that have never yet been on the

      fire, and ten talents of gold; twenty iron cauldrons, and twelve

      strong horses that have won races and carried off prizes. Rich

      indeed both in land and gold is he who has as many prizes as

      these horses have won for Agamemnon. Moreover he will give you

      seven excellent workwomen, Lesbians, whom he chose for himself,

      when you took Lesbos—all of surpassing beauty. He will give you

      these, and with them her whom he erewhile took from you, the

      daughter of Briseus, and he will swear a great oath, he has never

      gone up into her couch nor been with her after the manner of men

      and women. All these things will he give you now down, and if

      hereafter the gods vouchsafe him to sack the city of Priam, you

      can come when we Achaeans are dividing the spoil, and load your

      ship with gold and bronze to your liking. You can take twenty

      Trojan women, the loveliest after Helen herself. Then, when we

      reach Achaean Argos, wealthiest of all lands, you shall be his

      son-in-law, and he will show you like honour with his own dear

      son Orestes, who is being nurtured in all abundance. Agamemnon

      has three daughters, Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa; you

      may take the one of your choice, freely and without gifts of

      wooing, to the house of Peleus; he will add such dower to boot as

      no man ever yet gave his daughter, and will give you seven

      well-established cities, Cardamyle, Enope, and Hire where there

      is grass; holy Pherae and the rich meadows of Anthea; Aepea also,

      and the vine-clad slopes of Pedasus, all near the sea, and on the

      borders of sandy Pylos. The men that dwell there are rich in

      cattle and sheep; they will honour you with gifts as though were

      a god, and be obedient to your comfortable ordinances. All this

      will he do if you will now forgo your anger. Moreover, though you

      hate both him and his gifts with all your heart, yet pity the

      rest of the Achaeans who are being harassed in all their host;

      they will honour you as a god, and you will earn great glory at

      their hands. You might even kill Hector; he will come within your

      reach, for he is infatuated, and declares that not a Danaan whom

      the ships have brought can hold his own against him.”



      Achilles answered, “Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, I should give

      you formal notice plainly and in all fixity of purpose that there

      be no more of this cajoling, from whatsoever quarter it may come.

      Him do I hate even as the gates of hell who says one thing while

      he hides another in his heart; therefore I will say what I mean.

      I will be appeased neither by Agamemnon son of Atreus nor by any

      other of the Danaans, for I see that I have no thanks for all my

      fighting. He that fights fares no better than he that does not;

      coward and hero are held in equal honour, and death deals like

      measure to him who works and him who is idle. I have taken

      nothing by all my hardships—with my life ever in my hand; as a

      bird when she has found a morsel takes it to her nestlings, and

      herself fares hardly, even so many a long night have I been

      wakeful, and many a bloody battle have I waged by day against

      those who were fighting for their women. With my ships I have

      taken twelve cities, and eleven round about Troy have I stormed

      with my men by land; I took great store of wealth from every one

      of them, but I gave all up to Agamemnon son of Atreus. He stayed

      where he was by his ships, yet of what came to him he gave

      little, and kept much himself.



      “Nevertheless he did distribute some meeds of honour among the

      chieftains and kings, and these have them still; from me alone of

      the Achaeans did he take the woman in whom I delighted—let him

      keep her and sleep with her. Why, pray, must the Argives needs

      fight the Trojans? What made the son of Atreus gather the host

      and bring them? Was it not for the sake of Helen? Are the sons of

      Atreus the only men in the world who love their wives? Any man of

      common right feeling will love and cherish her who is his own, as

      I this woman, with my whole heart, though she was but a fruitling

      of my spear. Agamemnon has taken her from me; he has played me

      false; I know him; let him tempt me no further, for he shall not

      move me. Let him look to you, Ulysses, and to the other princes

      to save his ships from burning. He has done much without me

      already. He has built a wall; he has dug a trench deep and wide

      all round it, and he has planted it within with stakes; but even

      so he stays not the murderous might of Hector. So long as I

      fought the Achaeans Hector suffered not the battle range far from

      the city walls; he would come to the Scaean gates and to the oak

      tree, but no further. Once he stayed to meet me and hardly did he

      escape my onset: now, however, since I am in no mood to fight

      him, I will to-morrow offer sacrifice to Jove and to all the

      gods; I will draw my ships into the water and then victual them

      duly; to-morrow morning, if you care to look, you will see my

      ships on the Hellespont, and my men rowing out to sea with might

      and main. If great Neptune vouchsafes me a fair passage, in three

      days I shall be in Phthia. I have much there that I left behind

      me when I came here to my sorrow, and I shall bring back still

      further store of gold, of red copper, of fair women, and of iron,

      my share of the spoils that we have taken; but one prize, he who

      gave has insolently taken away. Tell him all as I now bid you,

      and tell him in public that the Achaeans may hate him and beware

      of him should he think that he can yet dupe others for his

      effrontery never fails him.



      “As for me, hound that he is, he dares not look me in the face. I

      will take no counsel with him, and will undertake nothing in

      common with him. He has wronged me and deceived me enough, he

      shall not cozen me further; let him go his own way, for Jove has

      robbed him of his reason. I loathe his presents, and for himself

      care not one straw. He may offer me ten or even twenty times what

      he has now done, nay—not though it be all that he has in the

      world, both now or ever shall have; he may promise me the wealth

      of Orchomenus or of Egyptian Thebes, which is the richest city in

      the whole world, for it has a hundred gates through each of which

      two hundred men may drive at once with their chariots and horses;

      he may offer me gifts as the sands of the sea or the dust of the

      plain in multitude, but even so he shall not move me till I have

      been revenged in full for the bitter wrong he has done me. I will

      not marry his daughter; she may be fair as Venus, and skilful as

      Minerva, but I will have none of her: let another take her, who

      may be a good match for her and who rules a larger kingdom. If

      the gods spare me to return home, Peleus will find me a wife;

      there are Achaean women in Hellas and Phthia, daughters of kings

      that have cities under them; of these I can take whom I will and

      marry her. Many a time was I minded when at home in Phthia to woo

      and wed a woman who would make me a suitable wife, and to enjoy

      the riches of my old father Peleus. My life is more to me than

      all the wealth of Ilius while it was yet at peace before the

      Achaeans went there, or than all the treasure that lies on the

      stone floor of Apollo’s temple beneath the cliffs of Pytho.

      Cattle and sheep are to be had for harrying, and a man buy both

      tripods and horses if he wants them, but when his life has once

      left him it can neither be bought nor harried back again.



      “My mother Thetis tells me that there are two ways in which I may

      meet my end. If I stay here and fight, I shall not return alive

      but my name will live for ever: whereas if I go home my name will

      die, but it will be long ere death shall take me. To the rest of

      you, then, I say, ‘Go home, for you will not take Ilius.’ Jove

      has held his hand over her to protect her, and her people have

      taken heart. Go, therefore, as in duty bound, and tell the

      princes of the Achaeans the message that I have sent them; tell

      them to find some other plan for the saving of their ships and

      people, for so long as my displeasure lasts the one that they

      have now hit upon may not be. As for Phoenix, let him sleep here

      that he may sail with me in the morning if he so will. But I will

      not take him by force.”



      They all held their peace, dismayed at the sternness with which

      he had denied them, till presently the old knight Phoenix in his

      great fear for the ships of the Achaeans, burst into tears and

      said, “Noble Achilles, if you are now minded to return, and in

      the fierceness of your anger will do nothing to save the ships

      from burning, how, my son, can I remain here without you? Your

      father Peleus bade me go with you when he sent you as a mere lad

      from Phthia to Agamemnon. You knew nothing neither of war nor of

      the arts whereby men make their mark in council, and he sent me

      with you to train you in all excellence of speech and action.

      Therefore, my son, I will not stay here without you—no, not

      though heaven itself vouchsafe to strip my years from off me, and

      make me young as I was when I first left Hellas the land of fair

      women. I was then flying the anger of father Amyntor, son of

      Ormenus, who was furious with me in the matter of his concubine,

      of whom he was enamoured to the wronging of his wife my mother.

      My mother, therefore, prayed me without ceasing to lie with the

      woman myself, that so she hate my father, and in the course of

      time I yielded. But my father soon came to know, and cursed me

      bitterly, calling the dread Erinyes to witness. He prayed that no

      son of mine might ever sit upon knees—and the gods, Jove of the

      world below and awful Proserpine, fulfilled his curse. I took

      counsel to kill him, but some god stayed my rashness and bade me

      think on men’s evil tongues and how I should be branded as the

      murderer of my father; nevertheless I could not bear to stay in

      my father’s house with him so bitter against me. My cousins and

      clansmen came about me, and pressed me sorely to remain; many a

      sheep and many an ox did they slaughter, and many a fat hog did

      they set down to roast before the fire; many a jar, too, did they

      broach of my father’s wine. Nine whole nights did they set a

      guard over me taking it in turns to watch, and they kept a fire

      always burning, both in the cloister of the outer court and in

      the inner court at the doors of the room wherein I lay; but when

      the darkness of the tenth night came, I broke through the closed

      doors of my room, and climbed the wall of the outer court after

      passing quickly and unperceived through the men on guard and the

      women servants. I then fled through Hellas till I came to fertile

      Phthia, mother of sheep, and to King Peleus, who made me welcome

      and treated me as a father treats an only son who will be heir to

      all his wealth. He made me rich and set me over much people,

      establishing me on the borders of Phthia where I was chief ruler

      over the Dolopians.



      “It was I, Achilles, who had the making of you; I loved you with

      all my heart: for you would eat neither at home nor when you had

      gone out elsewhere, till I had first set you upon my knees, cut

      up the dainty morsel that you were to eat, and held the wine-cup

      to your lips. Many a time have you slobbered your wine in baby

      helplessness over my shirt; I had infinite trouble with you, but

      I knew that heaven had vouchsafed me no offspring of my own, and

      I made a son of you, Achilles, that in my hour of need you might

      protect me. Now, therefore, I say battle with your pride and beat

      it; cherish not your anger for ever; the might and majesty of

      heaven are more than ours, but even heaven may be appeased; and

      if a man has sinned he prays the gods, and reconciles them to

      himself by his piteous cries and by frankincense, with

      drink-offerings and the savour of burnt sacrifice. For prayers

      are as daughters to great Jove; halt, wrinkled, with eyes

      askance, they follow in the footsteps of sin, who, being fierce

      and fleet of foot, leaves them far behind him, and ever baneful

      to mankind outstrips them even to the ends of the world; but

      nevertheless the prayers come hobbling and healing after. If a

      man has pity upon these daughters of Jove when they draw near

      him, they will bless him and hear him too when he is praying; but

      if he deny them and will not listen to them, they go to Jove the

      son of Saturn and pray that he may presently fall into sin—to his

      ruing bitterly hereafter. Therefore, Achilles, give these

      daughters of Jove due reverence, and bow before them as all good

      men will bow. Were not the son of Atreus offering you gifts and

      promising others later—if he were still furious and implacable—I

      am not he that would bid you throw off your anger and help the

      Achaeans, no matter how great their need; but he is giving much

      now, and more hereafter; he has sent his captains to urge his

      suit, and has chosen those who of all the Argives are most

      acceptable to you; make not then their words and their coming to

      be of none effect. Your anger has been righteous so far. We have

      heard in song how heroes of old time quarrelled when they were

      roused to fury, but still they could be won by gifts, and fair

      words could soothe them.



      “I have an old story in my mind—a very old one—but you are all

      friends and I will tell it. The Curetes and the Aetolians were

      fighting and killing one another round Calydon—the Aetolians

      defending the city and the Curetes trying to destroy it. For

      Diana of the golden throne was angry and did them hurt because

      Oeneus had not offered her his harvest first-fruits. The other

      gods had all been feasted with hecatombs, but to the daughter of

      great Jove alone he had made no sacrifice. He had forgotten her,

      or somehow or other it had escaped him, and this was a grievous

      sin. Thereon the archer goddess in her displeasure sent a

      prodigious creature against him—a savage wild boar with great

      white tusks that did much harm to his orchard lands, uprooting

      apple-trees in full bloom and throwing them to the ground. But

      Meleager son of Oeneus got huntsmen and hounds from many cities

      and killed it—for it was so monstrous that not a few were needed,

      and many a man did it stretch upon his funeral pyre. On this the

      goddess set the Curetes and the Aetolians fighting furiously

      about the head and skin of the boar.



      “So long as Meleager was in the field things went badly with the

      Curetes, and for all their numbers they could not hold their

      ground under the city walls; but in the course of time Meleager

      was angered as even a wise man will sometimes be. He was incensed

      with his mother Althaea, and therefore stayed at home with his

      wedded wife fair Cleopatra, who was daughter of Marpessa daughter

      of Euenus, and of Ides the man then living. He it was who took

      his bow and faced King Apollo himself for fair Marpessa’s sake;

      her father and mother then named her Alcyone, because her mother

      had mourned with the plaintive strains of the halcyon-bird when

      Phoebus Apollo had carried her off. Meleager, then, stayed at

      home with Cleopatra, nursing the anger which he felt by reason of

      his mother’s curses. His mother, grieving for the death of her

      brother, prayed the gods, and beat the earth with her hands,

      calling upon Hades and on awful Proserpine; she went down upon

      her knees and her bosom was wet with tears as she prayed that

      they would kill her son—and Erinys that walks in darkness and

      knows no ruth heard her from Erebus.



      “Then was heard the din of battle about the gates of Calydon, and

      the dull thump of the battering against their walls. Thereon the

      elders of the Aetolians besought Meleager; they sent the chiefest

      of their priests, and begged him to come out and help them,

      promising him a great reward. They bade him choose fifty

      plough-gates, the most fertile in the plain of Calydon, the

      one-half vineyard and the other open plough-land. The old warrior

      Oeneus implored him, standing at the threshold of his room and

      beating the doors in supplication. His sisters and his mother

      herself besought him sore, but he the more refused them; those of

      his comrades who were nearest and dearest to him also prayed him,

      but they could not move him till the foe was battering at the

      very doors of his chamber, and the Curetes had scaled the walls

      and were setting fire to the city. Then at last his sorrowing

      wife detailed the horrors that befall those whose city is taken;

      she reminded him how the men are slain, and the city is given

      over to the flames, while the women and children are carried into

      captivity; when he heard all this, his heart was touched, and he

      donned his armour to go forth. Thus of his own inward motion he

      saved the city of the Aetolians; but they now gave him nothing of

      those rich rewards that they had offered earlier, and though he

      saved the city he took nothing by it. Be not then, my son, thus

      minded; let not heaven lure you into any such course. When the

      ships are burning it will be a harder matter to save them. Take

      the gifts, and go, for the Achaeans will then honour you as a

      god; whereas if you fight without taking them, you may beat the

      battle back, but you will not be held in like honour.”



      And Achilles answered, “Phoenix, old friend and father, I have no

      need of such honour. I have honour from Jove himself, which will

      abide with me at my ships while I have breath in my body, and my

      limbs are strong. I say further—and lay my saying to your

      heart—vex me no more with this weeping and lamentation, all in

      the cause of the son of Atreus. Love him so well, and you may

      lose the love I bear you. You ought to help me rather in

      troubling those that trouble me; be king as much as I am, and

      share like honour with myself; the others shall take my answer;

      stay here yourself and sleep comfortably in your bed; at daybreak

      we will consider whether to remain or go.”



      On this he nodded quietly to Patroclus as a sign that he was to

      prepare a bed for Phoenix, and that the others should take their

      leave. Ajax son of Telamon then said, “Ulysses, noble son of

      Laertes, let us be gone, for I see that our journey is vain. We

      must now take our answer, unwelcome though it be, to the Danaans

      who are waiting to receive it. Achilles is savage and

      remorseless; he is cruel, and cares nothing for the love his

      comrades lavished upon him more than on all the others. He is

      implacable—and yet if a man’s brother or son has been slain he

      will accept a fine by way of amends from him that killed him, and

      the wrong-doer having paid in full remains in peace among his own

      people; but as for you, Achilles, the gods have put a wicked

      unforgiving spirit in your heart, and this, all about one single

      girl, whereas we now offer you the seven best we have, and much

      else into the bargain. Be then of a more gracious mind, respect

      the hospitality of your own roof. We are with you as messengers

      from the host of the Danaans, and would fain be held nearest and

      dearest to yourself of all the Achaeans.”



      “Ajax,” replied Achilles, “noble son of Telamon, you have spoken

      much to my liking, but my blood boils when I think it all over,

      and remember how the son of Atreus treated me with contumely as

      though I were some vile tramp, and that too in the presence of

      the Argives. Go, then, and deliver your message; say that I will

      have no concern with fighting till Hector, son of noble Priam,

      reaches the tents of the Myrmidons in his murderous course, and

      flings fire upon their ships. For all his lust of battle, I take

      it he will be held in check when he is at my own tent and ship.”



      On this they took every man his double cup, made their

      drink-offerings, and went back to the ships, Ulysses leading the

      way. But Patroclus told his men and the maid-servants to make

      ready a comfortable bed for Phoenix; they therefore did so with

      sheepskins, a rug, and a sheet of fine linen. The old man then

      laid himself down and waited till morning came. But Achilles

      slept in an inner room, and beside him the daughter of Phorbas

      lovely Diomede, whom he had carried off from Lesbos. Patroclus

      lay on the other side of the room, and with him fair Iphis whom

      Achilles had given him when he took Scyros the city of Enyeus.



      When the envoys reached the tents of the son of Atreus, the

      Achaeans rose, pledged them in cups of gold, and began to

      question them. King Agamemnon was the first to do so. “Tell me,

      Ulysses,” said he, “will he save the ships from burning, or did

      he refuse, and is he still furious?”



      Ulysses answered, “Most noble son of Atreus, king of men,

      Agamemnon, Achilles will not be calmed, but is more fiercely

      angry than ever, and spurns both you and your gifts. He bids you

      take counsel with the Achaeans to save the ships and host as you

      best may; as for himself, he said that at daybreak he should draw

      his ships into the water. He said further that he should advise

      every one to sail home likewise, for that you will not reach the

      goal of Ilius. ‘Jove,’ he said, ‘has laid his hand over the city

      to protect it, and the people have taken heart.’ This is what he

      said, and the others who were with me can tell you the same

      story—Ajax and the two heralds, men, both of them, who may be

      trusted. The old man Phoenix stayed where he was to sleep, for so

      Achilles would have it, that he might go home with him in the

      morning if he so would; but he will not take him by force.”



      They all held their peace, sitting for a long time silent and

      dejected, by reason of the sternness with which Achilles had

      refused them, till presently Diomed said, “Most noble son of

      Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon, you ought not to have sued the

      son of Peleus nor offered him gifts. He is proud enough as it is,

      and you have encouraged him in his pride still further. Let him

      stay or go as he will. He will fight later when he is in the

      humour, and heaven puts it in his mind to do so. Now, therefore,

      let us all do as I say; we have eaten and drunk our fill, let us

      then take our rest, for in rest there is both strength and stay.

      But when fair rosy-fingered morn appears, forthwith bring out

      your host and your horsemen in front of the ships, urging them

      on, and yourself fighting among the foremost.”



      Thus he spoke, and the other chieftains approved his words. They

      then made their drink-offerings and went every man to his own

      tent, where they laid down to rest and enjoyed the boon of sleep.